Science and Magic burns
by Spiritual Stone
Summary: You know, after saving someone's shell, you'd kinda expect them to be grateful. Especially when they're hurt all over and they were found in the sewers, not to mention when they look like elves. Unless sticking a knife at your neck counts as 'thanks'...
1. Visitors Black and White

**Heya peoples! Wow, it took me two years to update this, lol. TWO YEARS! (0.o) Shocking. Absolutely disgraceful.**

**But I improved the first chapter, and the second chapter from its original form, so I hope you like like! XD**

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Science and Magic Burns

He was alerted by her shuffling, and that was enough to get him out of her sight, but keep her in his sight. He didn't know how she had ended up near his home, battered and bruised and unconscious, but it wasn't in his nature to leave a person so hurt and defenceless. He had bandaged her cuts and burns, and had found some cereal—still edible—from the dump, and left it near the couch she had been sleeping on.

From the dark corner he saw her wake up, rubbing her eyes and head as if they hurt. She'd looked around the lab strangely, and had looked at the cereal strangely, and looked at the computers strangely. Could it be possible that this whole world was strange to her? Could be. It would explain her ears and attire…

Finally she looked at the cereal bowl and the milk carton next to it, neatly placed on a tray and placed on the floor beside the couch. She sat in front of it, sniffing the cereal, crunching on it slowly.

The creature watched her open the carton, and saw the delight on her face. Was milk familiar to her? She looked at the glass of water and drained it down her throat, her pace in drinking slow and measured. Perhaps she wasn't so hurt, after all? She then put the milk in, sniffed, and drained it. She continued to crunch on the cereal, dry.

The creature narrowed its green eyes. This was a strange specimen of a human he was messing with, that was for sure.

Once finished she looked around and stood, wincing a little when she used her left leg. She brushed off her green tunic and checked that her white trousers were not torn, before walking around, examining the place carefully. The brown leather boots she wore squeaked as she walked around, and every so often she scratched her blonde head in confusion, messing up the back-long ponytail she wore.

She was intrigued by the computers, the machines he had in his home, and the photos of his friends. She clacked at the concrete with her boots with a scrutinizing frown on her face, and stared at the curved walls of the abandoned train station in wonder. She sniffed at the place but did not grimace at the smell of the sewers nearby.

She _did_ however look around as if knowing someone was watching her.

The creature wondered why she would not leave. Why did she not wish to avoid the smell? Didn't this place irk her? A laboratory in a sewer was definitely strange, but that kind of strange would usually drive people away. Not attract them.

She went back to the couch, much to the creature's dismay, scuffing her feet forlornly. If the girl stayed for any longer, he would be forced to leave. He wanted to tell his friends what had transpired, but he couldn't entrust a human with his home and data. How did he know that she wouldn't go up to the surface and blab about his home? Then his enemies would hunt him down, and he didn't want that sort of thing to happen ever again.

She seemed to come to a decision. She stood, looked around again, and took a deep breath. "Could you please come out? I'd like to say thank you. … Whoever you are."

She was tempting him greatly to speak from his dark corner. Such kind words he hadn't heard in a while, and with them coming from a stranger they were very inviting. But his appearance would frighten her. If he spoke, she would come looking for him. He wouldn't risk it.

After several seconds of silence, the girl huffed and marched up to one of his machines, glancing at the blinking lights and buttons with scrutiny. She tapped her foot, almost irritated as she examined the complicated mechanism, and the creature was starting to worry. What she was standing in front of was none of her business, and was a very vital power source for him. It powered his home, his computers, and every little gadget in his possession. If she altered anything…

"Hm… what does this button do?" she asked nobody, pointing towards the most insignificant looking one.

The creature's worry turned to panic. If she pushed that, all his computer data would be lost! His work, his friend's work, all of it would be lost and never replaced…!

"Well, if nobody's coming out to stop me, what's stopping me from pushing it?"

The impish smile on her face said everything. It was bait, and the bait she was dangling in front of his snout was very vital to him. But his identity…!

She pulled back her finger like a snake would when striking its prey and the creature hiding in the shadows desperately hoped that she wouldn't do it. Please, please no…

The turmoil he usually fought back was coming over his senses, driving him to attack her, to save his identity. But her safety… his own safety…!

The finger jerked.

He roared, "_No_!"

The girl yelped and stumbled back as the large creature dived for the machine, and she had to cartwheel to get her balance. When she did, she looked at her saviour slash attacker, and lost her breath.

In front of her stood a crocodile one and a half her size larger, standing on two feet freely like any other man. His leathery skin was a murky green, unlike his white teeth that gleamed sharply in his long, wide maw. His eyes were sharp and vertical, an angry emerald that was not to be messed with. The evident muscle on his body would aid it in a quest to destroy her, if it desired to pursue it. She took several deep breaths, wondering whether if it was really this creature that had healed and fed her. It growled, and shifted its feet, ready to strike.

The girl slowly reached for her pouch and pulled a porcelain instrument, putting it to her lips. She played her sister's lullaby, watching the animal carefully. It growled and roared at the music, but it shook its head wildly and didn't attack. It closed its eyes, and when it opened them again, the girl saw that it was a kind green, and was not a vertical slit, wild and unrestrained with rage.

The two looked at one another carefully, and the girl was first to move.

She bowed.

The creature took a step back in astonishment, and was further surprised when the girl said, "You have my sincere apologies for intruding on your home, and eternal gratitude for the hospitality and care you've granted me. My name is Lynda Varekai Harkinian. I am in your debt."

Such honour, such formality and respect! He never got that from a human; never!

"I… I am Leatherhead."

The girl righted herself from her bow, and grinned rather boyishly. "Nice name."

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"This is a bad idea, ya know that, right?"

Leo paused and sighed, facing the brother that was leaning against the wall unhelpfully while he held the bowl of water with a cloth in it. "You know Don and Mikey. They wouldn't let it go."

When the blue-banded turtle continued walking towards the couch area, Raphael reluctantly followed. On the said couch a stranger was lying there unconscious, and Mikey and April were bandaging a particularly nasty cut on its shin. The water Leo had been requested to get by Don was for some burns on his left arm; they were pretty nasty, to say the least.

Don and Mikey had found him pretty much at their doorstep in that condition; and they had, to the brothers' and master's chagrin, brought him in. The worry was mounted by the fact that this person didn't look… common-place. Instead of a shirt and jeans or something along those lines, a purple tunic with blue undershirt and trousers, and the scarf that wrapped his face that made him look like their nemesis, the Foot.

Don reasoned, when these points were noted, that the stranger had his hair and face only partially covered, and even dark purple was too colourful and revealing an attire for the Foot to wear. Besides, his leather boots were way too clunky for those of a ninja. He also pointed out that if this stranger really _had_ been looking for them, he would be trapped and in their custody and there would be nothing that he could do about it.

"Besides," Mikey pointed out later, "You guys wouldn't have left him behind either."

Which was true but it didn't make it any easier.

Speaking of which, the orange-banded turtle had looked up to acknowledge Leo and Raph and he had a wide-eyed expression on his face. "_Dudes_," he whispered, worried that he would wake the stranger up, "This guy's an _elf_."

They blanched, not quite sure whether to take the statement as a joke or not. They looked to April for confirmation.

She hesitated and nodded. She shifted a little to the side and shifted his blonde hair. "See, look, he's re-"

A blur and a gasp of surprise as something grabbed her wrist not-quite-hard-enough-to-bruise and red and purple blurred and she was thrown on the couch and there was no unconscious stranger lying there anymore. Mikey gave his trademark squeal and was thrown backwards and hurtled against Leo and the bowl dropped and clanged and spilt as Raph dodged and swiped his sai out of his belt and threw. Metal twanged and snapped and sang, and the sai was in the enemy's grip.

He crouched in between April and the turtles, knife in one hand, sai in the other, and though his fringe obscured his eyes they left his ears alone and they were indeed pointed like an elf's. His breathing was harsh and his whole frame trembled. But the fight was on, whether he was an invalid or not.

His crouch crumpled; Raph yelled and dived forward and the swipe was countered by his own weapon and _oof_ pain bashed in his chest with the enemy's shaky foot and Leo and Mikey untangled themselves from each other and their hands went to their weapons and the stranger lunged and ran from them and Raph hollered out to Don to _get his butt out here it's trouble_!

He was talking to Master Splinter and both of them jolted and cried out, hands already going to weapons as the stranger practically barrelled into them and Don whacked his bo against the elf's head but it blocked with the blunt side of the knife and rolled away and ran again, stumbling over pain and possible fear. The family rushed forward around the pool area where the stranger was headed.

He jumped and rolled and crouched on the stone floor, looking around for a possible escape rout and found too many doors that could lead anywhere, to the kitchens to the bedrooms to the armoury and whatever else the turtles had.

"_Hey_!" Mikey yelled and the stranger flinched, "We helped you and this is what we get for it!?"

The elf spun and barred his weapons. He hefted Raphael's sai and threw it at Mikey and he squealed and dodged and it imbedded itself on the turtles' To-do list.

April grabbed Mikey and pulled him down against the couch. Leo, Don and Raph had already rushed forward to meet the elf in combat, or perhaps in Don's case negotiation, and it seemed that she was the only one who'd noticed the most important thing about the rampaging elf, "Mikey! What did I do when I first met you guys?"

"Is this really the time to be talking about the good-ol'-days!?"

"I screamed, Mikey! I was scared and I fainted and you know everything else! _Why_ isn't _he_ doing the same? Why is he so _quiet_?"

"He… can't speak English?"

"Oh, forget it, come on!"

As they ran to catch up with the rest, April's chest was filled with unease. She had feeling the Don that felt the same. There had been no scream of fear, no moment of shock as the human took Mikey in (assuming that it was Mikey that he had seen first due to the fact that he had been the closest). Showing no fear at seeing mutants such as themselves required discipline to the extremes, or extreme experience with the likes of them. People like Bishop for example, or the Shredder, or someone that was familiar with the Multi-verse via the Battle Nexus tournaments or severe intelligence through science. Such experience and knowledge meant that the stranger may have powers that the turtles couldn't overcome.

The thought put April on edge.

When she reached the ground floor with Mikey the place was utter chaos. The elf ducked and dodged Leo's doubled swipe and kicked away his weapons as he rolled and slashed at Raph's chest which the turtle protected with his remaining sai and a green foot lashed out and the elf used it to manoeuvre away from Don's jab of his bo and flipped over Raph's shoulder and threw him over his hip and he dodged the other way as nunchakus _cracked_ against the floor where his head had been and a round-house kick from a foreign boot sent Don flying and the elf rolled and lunged and his face was right there, _right there_ in front of April and there was an infinitesimal pause in which he just _stared_ at her and he could've attacked her and be done with it but his eyes scrunched with annoyance and he turned away and gave a frustrated kick at the back of Mikey's head.

April blinked. Was his eye really…?

The thought flew from her mind as Master Splinter went for the elf next, and his stick went _whack-whack-whack-whack-whack_ against the elf's sides and he hissed and jumped away. He ran a few metres before turning and baring his weapon again, and his posture crumpled and his visible eye winced.

The turtles and the rat gawped at his eye. It was red, the purest red, like freshly drawn blood.

"What the shell _is_ this guy?" Raph demanded, pointing his sai at him aggressively, as the elf's crouch sunk down to a defensive kneel. His blond hair was lank with the beginnings of sweat, and his gaze flickered on the bandages on his dominant arm, the ones that he seemed to have just noticed.

"Does he even speak English?" was Mikey's incredulous question, vaguely reminding himself of April's concern.

Don was the first to cautiously step forward, bo barred non-aggressivly "Can you understand us?"

The visible eye blinked, and the word that came from the cowl sounded like an adult that was forced to repeat something childish or degrading. "Un-stangh."

"I think we're entitled to take that as 'vaguely'," Don remarked with a sigh, "And this will make it a whole lot harder for us."

Leo grimly stepped forward, his weapons carefully lowered but still in his grip, ready, always ready. He stared the red eye down, and made his voice carefully controlled, not friendly, but not hostile either. "Who are you?"

The intruder shook his head.

Leo controlled his patience. "Where do you come from?"

That particular question had a different result than of incredulity. The elf's eyes widened and its gaze twitched all over the place, and it seemed to think, to remember, to understand, and then an angry snarl ripped from its invisible throat and the thing lashed out like a rabid animal freed from its cage.

Leo cursed and his ken whistled and clashed with the elf's knife and the purple-clad body jerked and whirled and Leo jumped over the leg that tried to trip him over but pain erupted in his chest midair as a punch threw him back and he saw his hot-headed brother leap over him as the others held his back and he saw the elf trip over his own feet and collapse and emit a groan of pain and Raph's cry as he attempted to pin the elf to the floor with his crossed sai by the neck Leo cried out too late _no_!

Next thing they knew Raph was lying face down on the floor, two long knives crossed above his neck to pin him down, his arm promptly ground down painfully by a foreign boot against his shell and four throwing knives were held in the enemy's grip.

As murderous red eyes glared at them, the elf took one of his own knives and threw it against the ground, where it embedded itself dangerously close to Raph's beak.

Mikey gulped. "Even I know what that means."

The family looked at each other and dropped their weapons.

The elf seemed satisfied. His tone was measured as he said, "Ghere… _Linda_?"

The family shook their heads and waited for Raphael to take action, to throw the elf off, to do something to-

Suddenly the phone gave a warning ring before the giant TV screen flashed to life and Leatherhead's face came to view.

"Hello, friends. I…" he took in the image he saw on his own screen, and he growled menacingly, the pupils of the kind green eyes attempting to thin into a vertical slit. But he successfully cleared his inner beast, turning his head to the side to talk to someone. "It seems what you have predicted has happened, Miss Harkinian."

There was a horrified wail, and at the sound of it the eye of the elf widened, "Lynda!"

The elf leapt towards the screens, frantically looking at the pixels. "Lynda!?"

The crocodile moved aside, and a girl of about eighteen years stepped onto the screen, looking worried when she saw the red-eyed man. "Sheik! You haven't hurt anyone have you?"

Leatherhead saw the elf's eyes flick from him to her to the turtles and back again with suspicion, and the girl smiled softly before speaking in a foreign language, the man seemingly calming with every gentle word. In turn, his reply reassured her. The turtles behind him clustered around in a bemused semicircle with their Master. His sons still held their weapons, refusing to put their guards down.

They watched the girl on the screen turn towards Leatherhead. "Is it possible for your friends to come over?"

"Of course," the crocodile replied, facing the screen again, "Leonardo, the situation seems rather… complicated. Why don't you and your brothers come along and we may discuss our visitors' predicaments? Explanations are easier in person, and they don't seem to come from New York, or earth for that matter."

"It'd be an honour if you could help us get home." The girl in the screen cut in, a grateful smile on her face.

"And it would be an honour to help you." the rat assured, moving up to the screen alongside the stranger. His sons gawked at him with total disbelief. The girl nodded in thanks before waving. The elf waved back, dubiously, it seemed.

"See you in couple of minutes, my friends." Leatherhead said before cutting the line. The face of the turtles' sensei, Master Splinter and the red-eyed friend of Lynda flicked into darkness, much to the girl's slight dismay. Leatherhead smiled at her childish pout. "Do not worry; you will soon see him in a few more minutes."

She blushed softly before grinning sheepishly and nodded, examining the dark screen again. Was the box really capable of showing things across the world? At home that amount of magic would kill the caster! At least three mages and an extra five magicians were needed to do that kind of thing; and not in a piece of glass, but in a pool of water. She sceptically knocked on the glass, making it go click against her knuckles.

Leatherhead turned at her yelp of pain.

"You should be careful Miss Harkinian. Static energy and electric heat tends to remain after a visionary conversation."

"I… see." Lynda gingerly rubbed her knuckles, not understanding a word he had said.

Her pointed ear twitched. Leatherhead caught a sound also, and they listened. To Lynda it sounded like a small earthquake, grating its teeth against glass and metal. It seemed to stroll on its lumbering feet towards them, through the strange rock tunnels and the smelly waters. Was it the strange rat creature and the one Leatherhead had named Leonardo? Was her friend coming with them? Hope sprung into the young woman's heart.

Only despair and alarm reined the crocodile's mind.

How had they found out? How did they know where he resided? From every tunnel he could see, the same sound of powerful engines muffled by strong metal and the faint, undertone of electronic devices that he did not own, buzzed through. He could almost hear the troops coming in their antibacterial and contamination suits, in their strange masks that sometimes lurked in his nightmares.

She seemed almost mystified by the aiming lasers of the alien blasters. "What are…"

"_Duck_!"

The crocodile roared and dived, catching the woman by her torso and slamming at her back to shove her away from the path of darts. She shouted in alarm and pain as the hornets of poison erupted from all directions, digging into her flesh as well as Leatherhead's.

She pulled two out of her arm before looking around in sheer panic, looking upon the men that wore glass over their faces with strange tubes coiling to their backs, holding strange bulky things that shot the darts. Were they cross-bows? And what was the deal with the red and black suits that covered them from head to toe? And why was the world… spinning…?

Lynda toppled to the floor, groaning as the pain in her head grew so great that it seemed like a sound that buzzed in her skull. She saw in her hazing vision that Leatherhead was taking the darts with roars of hate and rage, waving his arms in a storm of metal hornets. His eyes had thinned to slits again, and the men ceased fire to grab at him, some getting thrown to the wall at the first swings, but slowly they had him under their control, the excessive amount of poison finally knocking the crocodile out.

Lynda helplessly watched, unable to resist the grabbing hands that wrenched her to her feet and bruised her arms. She groggily looked upon a fiery haired man that reminded her of an enemy from her home, only he didn't wear that strange green, stiff suit…

The world was filled with laughter it did not want to hear as it covered itself in darkness.

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	2. Encounters Blue and Red

**Heya peoples! Wow, it took me two years to update this, lol. TWO YEARS! (0.o) Shocking. Absolutely disgraceful.**

**But I improved the first chapter, and the second chapter from its original form, so I hope you like like! XD**

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New problems

Mikey looked nothing but uneasy and frightened by the predicament, being the first to snap out of his shocked silence. "'Grateful' my _shell_! That guy nearly pulverized _Raph_!"

"I did _not_ get nearly pulverized, bone head!" The turtle argued, baring his fist towards his brother. But the argument stopped when a sigh of relief escaped the man, and turned to look at his saviours, his eye like spilt blood.

The elf half jumped when he saw Master Splinter was right there. He noted that it wore a robe that eerily reminded him of his people; there was wisdom in its stance. Its brown eyes looked at the red orb of the strange entity, and after a second the stranger bowed, murmuring words in his language.

The rat looked towards the turtles with a sniff of stern, disliking approval, "I believe that he is apologizing."

Don rearranged his hold on his bo, rather doubtful in the change. "And it was necessary to jump April because…?"

"Not to mention take Raph hostage…" Leo gruffly mentioned,

"And ruin my Sai! Look at 'em, the handles are busted!"

Mikey crossed his arms stubbornly, glaring at the stranger childishly. "The lady on the screen was much nicer than him, that's for sure."

But he became mock imperious when the elf bowed to him and his brothers. Raph hit him.

The elf put his fist to his chest and said, "Sheik."

"…I think that's his name." Don supplied, half surprised that the elf could be reasonable as Leo stepped forward.

"I'm Leonardo. This is Donatello, Michelangelo, and Raphael." He then gestured towards the rat and said, "Master Splinter."

Sheik nodded respectively to each one. Whether it was supposed to be a 'hello' or 'sorry', the turtles had no idea, but they were satisfied; at least he had calmed down.

He spoke in a polite tone, gesturing to his bandages, "You?"

"Mostly her," Don supplied, pointing at April.

"Thunks," he nodded his head again as if to acknowledge and apologize for his misgivings. But his visible eye was narrowed and the knives he'd used to threaten Raph with went up his sleeve, slipping into hidden cases with an audible click. "But no trust yet."

"I think the feeling's mutual." Leonardo observed, sheathing his ken to his back.

"Well let's get him to the nice lady before he decides to kick start shell again, shall we?" Donatello suggested, putting his weapon away also, nervously watching April hand the elf back his two long knives, which he slipped into his boots.

Raphael growled and said, "I'm keepin' an eye on 'im."

"Good." Leo said, "We have more reason not to trust him than for him to trust us. Let's go."

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"Wait a minute…"

Two brothers turned to look at the turtle wearing the orange sash, scratching his head confusedly. "If the nice lady knows how to speak English, why doesn't he?"

Leo and Raph looked at each other at the revelation, before putting their gaze to the elf. He was at the back of the Battle-shell, sitting on the edge of one of the seats, one of his feet tapping impatiently as they drove through the sewers. He wore his scarf again and kept looking out the window, not seeming to be listening to their conversation; much less understanding it.

Don, who was driving, asked, "Well, maybe they have nationalities where they come from? You know, we have Japanese, French, Spanish, English, they could have the same differences as we do."

Leo narrowed his eyes. "But what's stopping him from pretending not to understand?"

"I'm going to see what he's up to."

"Raph, I'm not so sure if that's such a good…too late." The turtle at the wheel sighed as he turned a corner, making the truck rock a bit. All was unperturbed, used to the routes of the sewer.

But that was until Don realised what he was driving into. "Ugh!"

He roughly pulled the wheel to the side, making the car jerk wildly. Everybody yelled at the sudden movement, and as Sheik was thrown forward onto the floor, something was forced out from his fist. Raph, being the closest ninja, and having already been ready for anything unexpected, caught it before it bounced the third time. But he regretted it when he lost his balance in doing so, hitting the opposite wall with his head.

"Don! What happened?" Leo demanded, his grip on his seat still strong and unrelenting. He was the only one still standing.

The purple wearing turtle gasped and gulped before saying, "Sorry. A family of rats. The small ones wouldn't move, so…"

Sheik groaned, rubbing at his forehead. But he immediately noticed the loss of his small object, and began to search frantically, not noticing Raph growl at his headache, before opening his three fingered palm to examine something. "What the…?"

Sheik snapped up his gaze and yelled when he saw his missing object. With murder in his eyes he lunged. Raph gave a yell as he was forced against the wall again, and the two struggled for the small artefact, growling curses in their respective languages.

"Hey! Hey, hey! Get off our brother!" Mikey yelled, jumping into the fray. "Ow!"

Mikey rubbed at his nose, where Sheik's elbow had made contact. The two rolled around the car, yelling in rage and frustration, grabbing at something that they could not see.

With a final yell Sheik pulled away, his scarf in disarray, allowing Mikey to see just how much rage that little fight had caused him. I shiver went down his spine.

It reminded him of a blood-lusting Raph, an angry Leo, Don mutated into a monster in a cage.

The elf was breathing harshly, but he took it in deep slow breaths, shaking with suppressed rage. He slowly put the little object in his pouch at his belt before cautiously returning to his seat, never taking his eyes off of Raphael.

His brothers helped him up, Mikey keeping a wary watch on the elf. "Why did he do that?"

"He dropped something." Raph growled, wincing, "I picked it up and then he goes whack on me."

"Well, what was it?" Don asked as he put him back into his seat.

He grunted and said, "Some kinda rock."

"A _rock_?" Leo and Don glanced at each other before looking at the stranger, who stubbornly looked through the window to look at the overly monotone sewer walls. Now they more uncomfortable with keeping the red-eyed man with them; he seemed like a bomb with a very, _very _short fuse.

"Let's go." Leo suggested, moving back to the front with Don, "Mikey, you stay with Raph and keep an eye on him. Don, let's start driving. The sooner we get to Leatherhead and _his_ visitor, the sooner we can get rid of ours."

"Aye-aye." Don said with a relieved smile, starting the engine with practiced ease. They rumbled through the sewers, not noticing the faint tyre marks that belonged to army tanks.

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"Hey, Leatherhead! We brought our visit-what the _Shell_!?" Mikey looked around in half wonder, half horror when he entered his friend's domain. In puzzlement his brothers had followed suit, and saw something that chilled the insides of their shells.

Scorch marks and craters filled with gruesome cracks lined the walls, having destroyed most of the old train-station. The walls seemed ready to crumble in on itself, and the once proud rocky clock lay shattered and broken, forever irreparable. There was no sign of Leatherhead, or his visitor, and all his equipment was gone with him. The screens that had dotted the walls were gone, there were no computers, no technical instruments, and all had disappeared along with their friend, as if the place had been cleared and destroyed in a superbly organized demolition project, leaving nothing but concrete and dust.

"What the Shell is goin' on here!?" Raph demanded, as Leo immediately sprang forward, calling out their crocodilian friend's name.

Mikey was too shocked to move. "This is _not_ good. This is so… _not_ good."

Don was staring round, worry etched on his face and tone. "This is clearly a carefully organized ambush. And by the looks of things… lots of weapons. And reinforcements. The equipment here would've weighed hundreds of tonnes, if not thousands! And they would've had to deal with Leatherhead himself, and we all know how tough he is?"

"Hey guys! Check this out over here!" Raph called, waving his sai around. Everybody leapt forward except the elf, who hung back to look around. When Raph saw that his brothers were present, he crouched down and pulled something out of the rubble, handing it to them.

"Spoon… the remains of a plastic bowl and… crispy corn cereal?" Mikey grabbed the box of cornflakes, incredulously looking at the crumpled box. "But I thought Leatherhead only ate Baked bran."

His brothers looked at him pointedly.

"Um… Why would Leatherhead be eating cereal in the middle of the day anyway…?"

"Probably because he was taking care of the girl." Donatello concluded, looking around again, "That'll explain why Leatherhead didn't notice the enemy coming in."

"Argh, forget what he was doin'! What I wanna know is who took 'im, and where they're keepin' him!" Raph gripped the spoon until it bent.

"But more importantly, how did Leatherhead get found? He lives so close to us; why weren't we found with him? And I mean, come on; we haven't met any humans that'll tip people with our hiding-spots..." Don's eyes widened when he finished his sentence, alarm bells ringing in everybody's heads as they began to frantically look around for their visitor.

He was standing right behind them.

With yells of shock and horror the turtles stumbled back, weapons drawn. The elf flinched, but he stood still as he offered them something in his hand, and it was Leo who first stepped forward to see what it was.

Green cloth that didn't belong to Leatherhead. It was soaked in blood, still dripping, still warm. It was obvious even without words, from the tremors that plagued his shoulders and fists, that he was asking him, _do you really believe I would do this?_

"Raph," Leo said, "Get everybody back to the Lair; you drive the fastest. Don, check out all the security, I'm sure you'll come up with something. Mikey, warn Master Splinter, April and Casey and get the hover shell too."

"Right."

"Okay."

"What will you be doing?"

"I'll stick with Sheik," Leo muttered grudgingly—noting distractedly that it was Mikey that protested rather than Raph—as he followed the trail of red raindrops that he had failed to notice, but Sheik hadn't.

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When Leatherhead rolled his eyes open, it was fuzzy, he felt sick, and he was _mad_.

He roared and lunged and there was a shuddering boom as he smacked into a wall of glass that didn't break in contact. He roared and lunged again, teeth flashing, fists pummelling on the transparent barrier that would not set him free.

There was a soft hum, and he snapped around snarling muscles ready to spring when all he saw was a limp body, hardly a threat, and the hum became a tune, a lullaby, and it dulled his ballistic tenseness, and slowly, doggedly, he was calmed once more. But his heart still raged against his ribs, and he was still panicked and worried, at best.

He was caught. If it was Bishop he hoped to whatever power existed that the Turtles would not come, for they would be caught, and tortured, and whatever else he did these days, in the shadows of the government. Or if they did, he hoped they had an _extremely_ good plan.

"Leatherhead…? Are you alright…?" a cough and the corpse shuddered. Lynda's eyes were barely open; she looked sickly and there were dark bags under her eyes. She lay face down, but her face was turned in his direction. There were bloody bandages where the darts had punched her flesh.

"Miss Lynda," Leatherhead quickly and carefully went to her side, sitting her up as gently as a new born babe. But still her face contorted with discomfort and pain, and she was burning to the touch. "What have they done to you?"

"I don't know," she coughed, giving a shaky grin. Her voice was hoarse, as if from screaming too much. "We seemed to be getting the same sort of darts but… can't feel anything… except it's cold… I feel shattered, like, tired, you know? I can barely keep awake… are you okay? Calm?"

"Yes, I am very much obliged to you Miss Harkinian," he murmured, trying to recognise every symptom and cross-reference it with the precious little he had read on poisons and their effects. But his brain would not function. It just gave off a buzzing noise. "Forgive me, for without me you wouldn't be in this state."

She snorted. "Meh, I could be a whole lot worse off. Is my hand moving?"

"Yes it is." Like a dieing animal. Waiting to be torn apart. No! No, no…

"Ha, hah, I'm not telling it to do anything. That's not good," She gave a wry grin that had too much pain in it to be comforting. "What have they taken off me? My equipment."

He was glad for the questions, for it gave him something to focus on. "They've taken your gloves and shoes. You seem to be missing your belt, but that is all."

"Oh no," she muttered, "They took my stone."

Leatherhead's eyes furrowed at the heartache in her tone. "Stone?'

"Watch out," she coughed before closing her eyes, "People."

Leatherhead quickly noted that they were in a prison with four walls, three of which were occupied by impregnable glass. The technology was alien. The prison itself seemed to be in the dead middle of a security control room, the far walls made of screens showing all sorts of corridors and cabins. There was a hum of engines.

Judging by the familiar, sneering face, they were stranded in the stratosphere and higher.

"You," Leatherhead growled, shifting the frail girl to the floor so he could step around her and shield her from sight.

"Yes, _me_!" the man barked brashly, anger grinding his teeth. His voice had the electric buzz of a speaker. Obviously, their voices couldn't pass through the impregnable wall. "And here I thought I pumped enough malcorionite into you to keep you ballistic, but no. Perhaps the sedative hasn't lost over."

"What are you talking about? What are you doing back on earth?" Leatherhead demanded in reply, his great jaws snapping with his own anger, "The Federation has withdrawn from this arm of the Galaxy. You have no right to be within three thousand cosmic miles of our planet."

"And indeed I _am_ three thousand cosmic miles from your stinking back-water planet!" he sneered, jabbing an insulting finger at Leatherhead's face. "And I intend to keep it that way until I withdraw to the authorities with a convict in this cage!"

His anger reared its ugly head once more. "The Federation has no grounds to search for the Teleportal any longer! You've involved an innocent bystander in this affair! And what is more-!" Leatherhead smashed his fist against the glass, and it broke his knuckles rather than the glass. He was too angry to notice the pain. "You're no longer its' leader,_ Blanque_! You're the only criminal in this cage of a ship!"

"That's General to you, Crocodilia Alligatoridae." The man spat, "And once the malcorionite sets in and the sedative runs out, you _will_ be my prisoner of justice!"

He turned and fumed out the sliding door, and Leatherhead was pounding the glass in all his pent-up, drugged-up fury. Leatherhead roared and he just barely surfaced from his anger, but still he pummelled the glass, tiredly, like a rhythm that he needed to continue to stay awake.

He must force himself to calm. He must force his rhythm of blows to slow, to lessen in power, to eventually stop. The mindless roar in his head must subside, for the anger was driving him to _kill_, and there was only an innocent bystander that could be killed as of now. And this occupant had no shell, like Michelangelo.

He must hold their images in his head. And the singing. Miss Harkinian was singing again, and that helped immensely. Leatherhead slumped to the floor, his heart racing, his hands shaking, and the adrenaline was pumping through his veins faster than his blood. He made his gasping as low and controlled as possible.

"We've been poisoned, haven't we…?" Was Lynda's conversational croak. "Are we dieing?"

"I don't b-believe so, Miss Hrrgh… Harkinian." The crocodile's muscles tensed and twitched sporadically and ire was curling his lip. "The malcr… malcorgh… the drug seems to be some advanced version of epinephrine, better known as adrenaline…" Identifying the drug made him mad. His tail thrashed and he directed it against the glass. Blanque's plan was obvious. Make him a murderer in one of his sporadic rages. Then take him to where the Federation was now, and start working on the Teleportal as court punishment. He had tried to make one of his own before Honeycutt had designed his, after all.

Lynda had somehow lifted herself up and dragged her body to the farthest wall he was pummelling. She hummed, and la-la-la-ed, and watched the crocodile with glassy eyes. She must sound so insane, was her forcefully optimistic thought. But it kept her awake. It kept her alert.

When Leatherhead leaned against the glass in physical exhaustion, but his fear-rage-bloodlust far from spent, Lynda sung out, loud enough for him to whirl around, teeth bared, muscles taut to leap at anything that moved and breathed and pumped blood. But not enough to attack her. "Will you come closer, so we can discuss over, the solution of our problematic plight? Touch my hand and I will heal thee, to the best of my meagre ability, though my magic is slight."

His eyes rolled, and he regained himself enough to say. "Your rhymes are lovely."

She grinned with cracked lips. They bled. He could smell it. "But seriously, give me your hand."

She sung that lullaby again, and worrying-fighting-thrashing for her safety/death all the while, Leatherhead reached for her. Lynda couldn't help but smile because it seemed like such a twisted version of a 'maiden-singing-beast-to-her-command' story. But their hands touched, and there was a glow of light, and Leatherhead threw himself back because he knew the monster inside would tear-tear-tear at it.

His knuckles were healed. The crocodile, under the buzzing and roaring of his brain, didn't know how to feel; the lack of pain would help him stay in control, but now there was nothing impeding him from completely tearing Miss Harkinian apart. But was his breathing a little easier…? The concentration was certainly less difficult…

"I've dulled the effect of the poison, but not much." she muttered apologetically, "I'll need to keep away from you for safety's sake. But keep at the wall, you might sweat the poison out faster."

Leatherhead roared; his eyes were slits of green, and there was no reason left in his mind. But somewhere in the monster's head there must be a voice telling him to hit the wall, just the wall, not the bundle of flesh that lay still at the far end of the prison.

Lynda hummed to herself, despite her knowing that if Leatherhead turned her way now, her songs will not calm him. If she made a sound too loud, she would be his target, and nothing would stop him from tearing her apart.

But she hummed to drown out the booming noise of tail and fist and teeth against wall, for she didn't want to imagine the sound her breaking bones would make.

* * *

**So... Review? XP**


	3. Prospects Grey on Gray

**Hi, S.S. here, long time no see, eh?**

**Um, sorry about the delay? If anybody cares?**

**Okay, really, sorry to anybody who has this on alerts, because I am extremely grateful. Slight probelm: LIFE. F***'in exams have been KILLING me. Yes, true, exams don't take MONTHS, but I had other responsibilities too. I missed writing this, so I'm gonna try harder from now, if you're still interested. **

**Oh, and this is short, compared to the last chapters. I hadn't fed the plot-bunny in a while so it kinda died on me. It's laughing at me cruelly from the sky, I know it. I know it is so.**

**I know... :0**

**ENJOY!!!**

_**Prospects Grey on Gray**_

"So you're sayin' we have a fairy on our hands?" was Casey's incredulous question, as he sat side by side with April in the Battle-shell, having gotten filled in on details by Master Splinter, Don and Raph. Mikey had gone ahead on the Hover-shell, saying that he wanted to drive on his own to get to Leo faster. Don had wondered briefly why a usually jumpy Mikey was being so firm and serious, but brushed it off as interest towards the elf.

He, unlike Michelangelo, had not seen the anger on Sheik's face.

"You could say that," Don nodded, as he fiddled with his shell-cell with a particularly tiny screwdriver, "But we haven't seen much magic off him, thank goodness. But he's a deadly fighter, he specialises in knives, apparently, and they were hidden. I'm not even sure the four we saw were the only ones he had. So don't underestimate him, Casey."

"Oh, please," April huffed with a smile, "Does he ever?"

"True," Don conceded to April's heavily laid sarcasm with a sigh, "Have we caught up with the rest yet Raph?"

Raph squealed the tyres around the corner and stopped with breakneck speed, just barely running over his brothers and their visitor. "Yep."

The red-banded turtle had hoped for some sort of reaction from the red-eyed elf, but the gaze that was aimed towards the massive vehicle was bland and uninterested, though it had some annoyance. Maybe the elf's ear heard exceptionally well, or since Leo, who was next to it, hadn't reacted the elf hadn't thought it worrying.

Either way, Raph was not pleased as he got out of the car.

"Dude!" was Mikey's indignant cry, "You nearly turned us into sewer-smudge."

"Don't think I wasn't aiming for ya too," Raph muttered at his brother, before directing his question at Leo, "So what's goin' on? Why'd you stop movin'?"

"Waiting, for one," the blue-banded turtle replied, "And it's a dead end. We'll have to go top-side; only from there we'll have no clue where to go. Not to mention…" he glanced nervously at Sheik.

Don caught on. "Ah. Well-"

"So you're the bozo's that's bin messin' with Raph, huh?" A finger jabbed out of the car and was quickly followed by the rest of Casey. April was shaking her head exasperatedly behind him, and Master Splinter casually took up the rear. "Well, Shortie, if you so much as think a' doin' it again you're gonna have Casey Jones ta mess with, you got that?"

Sheik took a careful step back from Casey's imposing height and gave a glare that was equally aggressive, though delivered with what was suspiciously close to dignity, before turning away.

April quickly stepped up to him, hand outstretched. "Sorry about Casey, he's a baboon sometimes, but he's good at heart."

"April!" was Casey's indignant reply, "Aren't ya forgettin' what Don said?"

The human woman was going to reply when the elf spoke with a questioning tone and an incredulous finger pointed at her. "April?"

April nodded. "Nice to meet you."

He paused before giving Casey a weary glance. "Cassee."

"Casey. _Cay_-_see_."

The elf shrugged and rather wearily tapped his fist against his chest. "Sheik."

While this was happening three of the brothers were hunched into a group to discuss severe matters. One of them glanced back towards the visitor and gave a worried expression towards his mentor and brother and two friends before resuming with the conversation.

"So, he's really not a Foot?"

"I don't think so." Leo shook his head towards the worried Michelangelo before putting his gaze to the front. "But the way he handled Raph is proof that he knows what he's doing. He's more than a simple Foot; he's dangerous."

"And…" Don cut in thoughtfully, "The fact that he doesn't understand us would make him more dangerous. Trust comes with understanding, and with the way he's acting, I think he suspects us of foul play."

"I wonder if he had fairies in his world… what?" Mikey rubbed his head confusedly at Leonardo's rather grim glare. "He's an elf, isn't he? And what are you doing with your shell-cell Don?"

Donatello grinned. "Just a second please… ah, thank you. I just prolonged the recording system on my shell-cell. And with the screening system I'd added into these, we'll be able to check up on what he says in writing. If he really comes from a different dimension, I want to know how his language works. This'll record everything he says, and everything we say. See?"

He pushed a button on his shell-cell and said, "Testing, testing, Donatello speaking."

A screen popped down when he pushed another button, and on the neo-green window, the words, _Testing, testing, Donatello speaking_. Was blinking in and out. "It also automatically files them into the blue prints of the recording system every fifteen minutes, so we won't have to worry about any missed conversations." Donatello finished, smiling proudly. "Mr. Sheik, could you be so kind as to catch?"

The turtle threw, and having heard his name, Sheik caught the object that flew at him. After hesitant seconds he began to examine it, slowly turning it over. "You wear it on your belt." Leo elaborated, putting his own shell-cell to his belt, in full sight. A nudge from their brainy brother prompted Mikey and Raph to do the same. After a second, Sheik did the same, slotting the device next to the pouches on his belt.

"Care ta explain?" was Raph's sarcastic question.

"We're doing this…" Donny explained as he rummaged through his bag for his spare shell-cell, "In case he panics. We not only record his words, but we'll have his location if he goes missing, and he'll trust us more. If we wear our shell-cell's like so, he won't think it's dangerous."

"Okay. I get the trust part. But why do we keep a tab on him?" Mikey objected, lifting a finger to the air, "Because I'm great with him running for… oh. Right."

"Exactly, Mikey, we'd be able to track him if he goes top-side. We can't have a runaway visitor in broad daylight. Now let's get moving. We've wasted time standing around and talking."

Together, they moved back to where the rest of the group were waiting, and after Donatello activated the auto-drive on the two vehicles so that the machines drove themselves home, and was about to follow his brothers up the manhole when the sight of Sheik just… staring at the wall… bothered him. He and his brothers knew the sewers well enough, though they couldn't claim to know all the twists and turns and bends in the complicated tubes in which they lived in… but…

"This shouldn't be here."

Raph turned round. "Huh?"

"This wall," Donatello reiterated, "It shouldn't be here. It's… I won't claim I know the schematics of this place like the back of my hand, but it's off. The brickwork's odd, the colouring's off, and…"

Sheik went to a specific corner and gave the wall a vicious kick. Nothing happened, but it gave too much sound to be made of rock. The elf placed his palm against the bricks, and frowned.

Mikey blinked worryingly. "What's he doing?"

There was a crackle of lightning across the wall. The bricks clicked away and shiny metal replaced it, a plasma panel winking under a logo they knew all too well. Their suspicions were confirmed by the alien calligraphy scrawled above it.

"The Galactic Federation's Insignia?!"

"Not _those_ bozos again!" Casey cried out, "What next, the Triceratons?"

"Let's not jump to conclusions," Leo warned, glaring at the portal, "So the Federation is here. Leatherhead goes missing. You don't need to be a genius to see the connection, but _why_?"

"Teleportal, anyone?" Donnie tapped at the metal, and it rang true. "Leatherhead was in the process of making his own when we first met him, remember? I bet Blanque still wants to wink a few bombs into enemy ships."

"Then Leatherhead's rescue is imperative," Splinter muttered, "As well as his guest. The question now, my sons, is this; how do we intend to enter?"

"I've got an idea," April offered, grinning smugly.

* * *

The skin of the intern at the 'lobby' of the portable base dulled to navy before reverting back to the light, natural shade of mauve, a human equivalent of a yawn. He hoped that primitive reptilian thing would hurry up and kill the human or whatever it was soon; this planet's oxygen was aggravating his sensitive lungs, even if he did wear the protective suit to prevent haemorrhaging.

There was a blink on a screen. He tapped it with a lazy tentacle and a humanoid face appeared, half obscured by yellow fur, the visible eye red as the trees back home. How he missed home…

The intern frowned. "Who're you?"

"Special infiltration division," a voice said, presumably the humanoid. It was hard to say, because its mouth was covered, "I got lost in the city top, er, above. I'm a little late."

Special infiltration division? They had one of those? "Why don't you take the disguise off, then?"

"The holographic cloak thing's short-circuited. I need the technicians to fix this thing, and I don't know how to take it off."

"…You're an idiot, you know that?"

"Yeah, I know. Will you let me in now?"

"Alrighty," the alien muttered, tapping a round panel to let the camouflage wall collapse, "Just be glad it wasn't Jegaskua here; he would've made you wait and bring in the others and stuff, the paranoi-"

The alien crashed against the sewer floor, two metal points poised against his skin. A green menace with a red band gave a snarling smirk at his one eye, and Kghlorp retracted it into his body with an 'eep'.

"So, snail boy," Raph growled slowly, "Where's the giant Croc?"

"U-up in the-the-the-the m-mother ship," the alien fluppered, finding difficulty in talking whilst frozen with fright, "B-Blanque's not al-l-l-lowed down here s-so he s-s-s-ent this awawawawa-out-post and I-I-can't go back t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-till the lizard kills that hum-,"

"_WHAT!!?_"

"Eep!" the alien intern completely froze over, as was genetically appropriate considering his species. Raph poked him a few times before distastefully pushing himself away.

"But Leatherhead wouldn't _do_ that!"

"Not out of his own will, Mikey, but…"

Leo stopped, and everybody recalled a Leatherhead with slit eyes, a scientist replaced by a monster.

"Well how are we gonna get _up_ there?!" Raph demanded, face contorted in rage.

"Already done," Don called from further in where there was a platform not dissimilar from a teleportal, already lighting up, ready to go.

"Quickly, my sons," Splinter said, urgently leading them on, "Much time has passed."

The group quickly settled on the platform. Sheik looked thoughtful as he watched his body evaporate from his feet, followed by blackness and watched it re-emerge in a place full of sparkling metal and windows filled with night stars and much else besides.

He looked at the others, who already had weapons unsheathed. "Stop. Ghuestion."

The rescue team paused. The elf gave an aggravated sigh as he said, haltingly, "I unstangh some. Kill who? Lynda?"

The earth-creatures shared an awkward glance. Sheik's one visible red eye narrowed, and he fished into some pouches on his belt, casually informing them, "Kill Lynda, _I _kill. No stop. Unstangh?"

April stepped forward, raising a consoling and worried hand, "Sheik, there's nothing to worry about, our friend Leatherhead, he _wouldn't_, he's-"

Sheik neatly manoeuvred around the group and sprinted away.

"We must pursue him, my sons!" Splinter shouted, running after the elf, "We must not be separated!"

"But aren't we-"

"The shell-cell's trackers don't work without earth satellites, Mikey!" Don yelled over his shoulder, "And we're _way_ above earth right now!"

"Then why don't we need oxygen?!"

"For the _guests_, probably."

* * *

Lynda's body gave a terrible throb of pain; she fought the urge to cough. Leatherhead still wasn't calm, the poisons messing with his head, and probably more interested in pulverising something that didn't leave him bruised and bloody. Lynda wished they had glass like that at home; the number of vases she'd smashed was bordering silly.

Her eyes fluttered to the outside of the glass cage and flickered across the windows of moving pictures, and it was with a jolt of joy and dread that she saw the green creatures with the big rat in a robe, with two friends it seemed, chasing after Sheik.

Lynda's gaze drifted back to Leatherhead. He was leaning against the wall, growling as he breathed, angry, wild, and probably wishing for a victim that gave a satisfying squelch when he hit it.

Lynda knew she looked like a corpse. So she had to get them out of there before Sheik jumped to the wrong conclusion and killed the kind, if schizophrenic, reptile in a rage.

* * *

**I do not know how I ended up with lines in the story itself. It was supposed to be a series of speech marks. Creepy...**

**Um, if you guys think I'm not portraying our awesome lean-green-turtle-kungfu-machines right, let me know! in the reviews. **

**Pleeeeeaaassse? (insert puppy eyes)**


	4. Plans Crystal and Murky

**Okaaaaay... I just realised it took me just under a month to update this. Huh. Meh, it's better than two years. XD**

**Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

_**Plans crystal and murky**_

Leatherhead was flickering in and out of his conscience. He was grappling with the monster, tooth and nail, claw to claw. The drugs were aiding it, but they were ailing, weakening. He was going to _win_. He _had_ to win. The beast faltered when he was able to recite the longest word in the human dictionary, then a few simple equations of trigonometry. He gained footing when the crocodile hypothesised a solution for a quasimetric theory involving electricity and plasma he and Dr. Honeycutt had been discussing. The monster within finally turned its tail when he was able to suggest a respectable explanation to one of the 'quantum-locked' aliens from a TV series Michelangelo was finding enjoyable these days.

Leatherhead heaved, banging a fist against the glass, feigning his drug-induced state, analysing the situation.

Worst-case scenario. The turtles have no idea what had happened to him and Lynda. Judging by her worry of her companion, the young man accused the turtles of foul-play, and vice-versa. Time lost. No way of getting from earth to the space-ship.

The glass was probably an advanced alien version of plexi-glass. Most-likely alloyed with diamond, and other such hard-bonded materials. The floor would be just as impenetrable. Leatherhead whirled round, biting, tearing, shouting, eyes flickering anywhere that might have some sort of _weakness_-

There.

His tail lashed out and cut the square black button into tiny smithereens, and there was a flurry of panic outside. The aliens tapped some panels, shifted some diagrams. Leatherhead searched for more tiny devices, and crushed another two that were strategically placed around the cell, and he realised with some satisfaction that these devices _must_ be the ones transmitting the noise within and without the cell back and forth.

He was killing their communications.

He doubted they had static, which caused some problems.

He crouched, gasping, growling, eyes flickering for more possible advantages. Miss Harkinian. He was loath to ask her for her help when she looked so sickly, but something must be done, and he had an idea, if only she were able to…

He spoke in the lowest of growls. Hoping her long ears would catch and interpret his words. "Miss Harkinian."

Her ear twitched. Her head jerked a little, and he hoped that was 'yes'.

"Can you create illusions with your magic?"

Her fingers crossed. No, then.

"Can you stand?"

Her fingers twitched, up and down. He assumed that was a nod. Leatherhead rose, half crouched, growling louder, "Do you have a weapon with you?"

Twitches, up and down.

He hated this, he hated acting so brutish and hellish as his backward nature, much less like some sick caricature of the two Kongs, but he beat his chest, roaring, "_Hurt_!"

Miss Harkinian reacted like lightning, facing his way, eyes flashing in outrage. She knew what he wanted her to do. He was glad that he'd been imprisoned with an intelligent lady.

Leatherhead lunged, and she rolled away, a knife flashing in her hand, whistling sharply as she swiped it. She stumbled as she tried to run. Leatherhead's tail whipped above her head, just barely missing.

He checked the outside of the cage. The aliens were watching, waiting.

He found another transmitter behind the elf; he roared and lunged and tackled into it, leaving the device fizzling.

"I won't do it Leatherhead," she whispered hoarsely, "I won't."

He attacked her. He had to. He had to force her to use that knife, had to force her to hurt him so Blanque's plan would backfire. If there was one thing he understood about all the creatures of the universe, it was their urge to survival.

He had the feeling that Lynda had plenty of it.

The 'duel' was quick. She was tottering all over the place, and the charade couldn't continue without some bloodshed soon. Hating himself, Leatherhead grabbed her torso in his hands and wrenched her in front of his face, and he _glared_, and she glared back and spat, "_Fine_!"

She stabbed down. Blood flowed from his neck, like a grotesque fountain of life.

The crocodile's muscles gave a spasm. That wasn't part of the plan. She was only supposed to pretend. Only supposed to…

His great body shuddered and collapsed. Lynda screamed as her body was sandwiched between the floor and his concussive weight, and the aliens imagined the mass of pulp her intestines must be, as she coughed blood, shuddered, and lay still.

* * *

The guards were taking pathetic pot-shots at the intruders. The turtles were green blurs, Splinter was a grey flash here and there, and the humans weaved in and out of the lights like expert dancers (though Casey… well… carrying on…) Their weapons had been honed with the help of Leatherhead and Honeycutt with alien metal; when the pulverising lasers got too close the turtles deflected them into the walls, leaving sizzling holes.

Sheik dodged the deathly lights just as well as the mutants, and whatever he threw at the soldiers flashed in their eyes like mini-stunners and they fell screaming, clutching their faces. His knife flashed purple when he couldn't dodge the volley of sniper-shots; he was always left unharmed.

"So he _does_ have magic," Leo muttered, cutting down what looked like a plant and kicking it in the direction of some on-coming soldiers effectively either tripping them or confusing them with fleshy foliage. Don kindly knocked them out with a few choice jabs of his bo.

"I _hate_ magic." Raph spat as he leapt over Casey (who was clobbering a division of close-range fighters with his hockey-stick) and threw a sai at a globe of light in the ceiling. It flash-pop-sizzled and strobe-lit the area, confusing the Federation units with its effect on movement. Unperturbed, the turtles and co moved on.

"Hey! Elf-boy!" Casey hollered through his hockey-mask, "Where do ya think you're going?! Know what's ahead?"

Sheik stopped at a junction. He glanced at something in his hand, and sprinted left.

"I think that's a yes," April muttered as she sprinted past him, leaving Casey sighing in exasperation as he followed.

"Magic, anyone?" Mikey quipped, jogging next Don, "I am _so_ glad that they're the ones that he's angry with. Dude, you should've seen the look on his face."

Don was a little worried. Though his brother's remark had been joking the first sentence, the last one wasn't. The smart one decided that letting Sheik go rampant wasn't such a great idea.

* * *

When Blanque received the news, he was _displeased_.

"What?!" he roared, slamming his fists against his desk, "A _stalemate_?! That's impossible!"

"Improbable but possible, as it turned out, sir," was the intern's nervous laugh, glad that he was reporting through the live-image feed rather than in person, "You see, the female specimen had a weapon-"

"Did I not tell you to confiscate all things from their persons?!"

"Well this one was hidden sir," was the intern's frightened squeak as he cowered under his own forelegs, "And it looked rather flimsy when she was waving it around, to say the least."

"But she _still_ managed to stab the creature in the _neck_." Blanque yelled at himself, tearing at his hair in explosive frustration.

"Quite right, sir," the intern agreed, "The circumstances were quite compromising for the lizard creature. Led himself to his own doom, so to speak. Much the same for the female specimen…"

"Get the medics!" Blanque howled, pointing at his screen, his eyes twitching with his rage, "Save the crocodile! I want that information, do you understand!? I want my _teleportal_!"

His hands jerked and the screen blipped and reverted back to the security, which was filled with blasting weapons, flashes of green and lots of pained screaming. The intern sighed, and turned on his co-workers sadly. "Bags not telling him about those cretins. I'm calling the medics in."

There was flurry of 'not me's which led to a sad and desperate game of galactic sudreano, a multi-verse version of earth's paper-scissors-rock.

* * *

The turtles had hidden themselves in what seemed to be a cupboard and was desperately restraining the Sheikah, who was demanding to be let out.

In King's English.

"If you do not let me out _right now_," Sheik snapped, brandishing his knife at the turtles, "I will let _myself_ out with a blast of fire so colourful your ashes will be _stained_."

Casey's jaw dropped. "You _talk_?"

"Hallelujah to you too." He snapped bluntly. "Now _let me out_."

Don impeded his way with his bo, frowning in disapproval. "Why were you pretending that you weren't fluent?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe I was _slightly _worried that there were creatures that looked suspiciously like Dinolfos looking after me? Or maybe I don't trust you. I personally think that was an _excellent_ reason."

"Low tricks do not earn you allies," Splinter warned, eyes narrowed, "And sarcasm is the lowest form of wit."

Sheik's snarl rose a notch in ferocity before he forced himself to calm. "Look," he tried to reason, "I appreciate you getting me here, but now I seem to have the best way leading myself, and you, to… to them. Now can we go?"

"_Now can we go_?" Raph mock-demanded, pointed an accusing finger at the elf, "Yeah, sure. After you tell _us_ why we should trust you an' your directions. For all we know you're just takin' us in circles!"

"You shouldn't trust _me_." Sheik snorted, amused, "Because I am the type that doesn't hesitate when asked to kill kings. What you should trust is my drive to get Lynda back. Just don't assume that they're in the same spot, likely as it is."

"Right. And what about what you said earlier?" Leo questioned suspiciously, the thought amplified by his too innocent reply of,

"What earlier?"

"Earlier. You threatened to kill Leatherhead."

His smile was crooked. He reached into a pouch, too quickly for anybody to stop.

He threw something and it _flashed_, half blinding everybody in the narrow closet, and the door burst open with a bang.

Sheik gave them a brief salute. "That applies only if he kills Lynda first. Race you there, folks."

He sprinted away.

* * *

"_VWAT_?!" was his violent shriek, "THE TURTLES ARE _HERE_?!"

"Uh, turtles, sir?" asked the alien intern, who had no idea what a turtle was. This one was not so worried about her livelihood; she was a temp, after all.

"The creatures you described!" the red-haired humanoid bellowed, spit flying in his mad tirade, "How in the blazes of Valhalla did they get up here!? We're in the stratosphere! Our temporary base was brought up as soon as the lizard and the victim were secured! The scan indicated that there was no alien technology on the earth capable of following us, and yet, AND YET, those cursed green cretins are _here_?!"

"Uh, about that, sir," the second intern buffed her claws against her uniform, barely suppressing a smirk. She's been bored as _hell_; this was a kick she'd been waiting for. "You changed your mind. You wanted the humanoid dead before bringing them over, so there aren't any loopholes to this operation, right?"

The General mad a sound that sounded oddly like gurgling, so rage-driven was he. "What part of the station are they in?"

She checked, brown claw clicking over the panels. "Sector Six. Heading starboard, to the storage."

Blanque gasped and managed a smirk. "So they're falling for the trap."

The alien intern rolled her red eyes. Trap? Yeesh.

"How are the medics?" Blanque harrumphed, glaring imperiously at her. She turned around, and then moved aside so the commander could see for himself.

They'd just entered, and were setting out their equipment. Stabilisers, heamoglobinic plasma, shockers, and oxidant foam, and other paraphernalia to keep them—well, the big green creature, anyway—alive. The security had to given the Go before the flexi-diamond doors could be brought down. Everybody was nervous; they'd seen the power of the 'crocodile', and they knew that what remained of Blanque's patience was very, very close to an end.

The doors opened, the medics shuffled in, suction pads and shockers at the ready.

The crocodile's eyes snapped open.

_Cacophony_.

There were screams there were wails of horror there were people of all races flying into the walls each other the chairs equipment nothing in his wake could escape as the great green mass of muscle gave a roar that shook the sterile air of the ship and sent the unharmed rest to cowering retreat, and Blanque, who was watching every single detail of the rampant creature was roaring his outrage and damnation in equal ferocity, banging the desk till it fizzled and short-circuited.

The girl was draped over his shoulder, still as a corpse.

* * *

"This is _so_ ridiculous, you know that?" Sheik muttered as he swiped at Leo's oncoming ken, dancing away from Mikey's nunchaku, "We're going for the same goal."

"_Not_ if you're thinking of killing _Leatherhead_!" the orange banded turtle retorted, going for a second strike with his left hand which was deflected by a flash of purple. "And how are you _doing_ that!?"

"With my power," the elf replied helpfully as he turned a corner, raised a hand, and a violent invisible force surged forward and toppled the oncoming Federation soldiers like bowling pins. He leaped over them, turned, and seemed to grin under his mask. "I'll let you take care of these guys. See ya."

"Any idea on how t'stoppin' him, genius!?" Raph yelled, mercilessly stomping on top of the fallen soldiers, said genius following quickly behind.

"Well considering we have the whole ship on our back and Casey and April and Master Splinter are too busy taking care of them, and…" he looked back as he ran, and seeing his other two brothers fighting off the now standing goons, sighed. "Leo and Mikey are heading off the ones we just stomped on. As for ideas, I don't think attacking him is going to be the best idea."

"_You're serious_!?"

"What would _we _do, Raph," Don snapped, "What would _we_ be doing if it was Master Splinter or April stuck inside with Leatherhead. We'd be _worse_ than frantic, and that's including the fact that we _know_ Leatherhead doesn't mean to hurt anybody and the guilt would kill him faster than Blanque and his demands ever could."

Raph's face was twisted in a snarl that railed that of a rabid wolf's. His voice was dangerously quiet as he said, "So what're we gonna do?"

"If any more Federation idiots come closer, hit them. I'm going to talk to Sheik."

Raph rolled his eyes as Sheik stopped at a crossway, and deemed to turn right. He came straight back and sprinted forward with three shooting soldiers behind him.

Raph's snarl deepened. "Perfect."

As the two hit their midst Don drove his bo to the ground and high-jumped over the men and caught up with Sheik, who was currently leaning on his knees and gasping for breath.

Don stopped, bo at the ready. "I want to talk to you."

"You know," The red-eyed elf wiped sweat off his forehead as he stood, glaring at him. "The fact that you're _chasing me_ is really reassuring. Really. Makes me feel so much better about trusting your friend with someone I care about."

"You have to understand. He's… he has a split personality. When he's stressed, when he's feeling in danger, threatened, he becomes… bestial. He doesn't know what he' doing when that happens. But he's gentle at heart, _good_! He would _never_ hurt your friend, not out of his free will!"

"Unless he's seeing red." The elf scoffed, a thick, sharp, wicked knife in hand, as he began to jog away, "I won't hurt him if there's no need to. But if he 'saw red' when Lynda conveniently sat next him, well…"

"But it's not his fault! Leatherhead is the victim here, _everybody is_! If you're going to go on a murder spree, do it on Blanque! He's the one that orchestrated this whole kidnapping, he's the one that's pitting us against each other."

"Good to know." Sheik muttered before surging towards a door and giving it a leaping kick. Of course, being metal and one without hinges, it didn't budge and he fell on his back and gave a painful "_Oof_!"

Don stood over him incredulously. "I'll give you eight out of ten. Perfect score if it weren't for the landing."

"Thanks," he muttered, breath knocked out from the back of his lungs. "Care to open it?"

"How'd you know they're here?"

"I have a stone. She has the other half. They're bound."

"Magnetic?"

"Never heard of it."

Don sighed and pressed the panel to slide the door open. Don entered first, hastily, in case Leatherhead needed a hand. But he was surprised to find that the place was empty; in fact it kinda looked like…

"I think this is a locker-room."

"Never heard of it." Sheik muttered again, stepping around the turtle to look around, worry lacing his movements. "Gods be damned…"

He jogged across a few aisles of shelves before moving down, and when he stopped at a particular locker he was gasping with something that had nothing to do with tire, and he couldn't turn the latch fast enough, his fingers were trembling and it was too technical and he didn't have _time_, he yelled and the thing exploded and even as his fingers burned Don saw him open the storage and extract something out of its cavity.

At first it looked like a plain leather strip, but on closer inspection Don saw it was a belt with pouches, and Sheik was muttering 'no' over and over as he opened the pouches one by one, throwing down seeds and food and caltrops and shell knew what else, till he came to a pouch that held a single rock that looked broken in half with white and red designs all over it.

He opened his other palm, and he had an exact likeness to it, and the two stones reacted like magnets and drew into one.

Sheik punched a locker. Don stepped back, gaping at the smoking crater.

When Sheik turned on him the turtle crouched into a battle stance, though he had no idea how he could've handled the purple fire in his fists and the murderous glow his eyes had taken.

"Where," Sheik hissed, teeth visibly sharper, "_Is this Blanque_?"

* * *

**Shit has jsut hit the fan, people, and guess who has the power to bend the wind? Or at the very least the ability to dodge it very, very well. **

**Defs not Blanque. XP**


End file.
